Wednesday, September 13, 2006

While riding on a train goin' west,I fell asleep for to take my rest.I dreamed a dream that made me sad,Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.

With half damp eyes I stared to the roomWhere my friends and I spent many an afternoon,Where we together weathered many a storm,Laughin' and singin' 'til the early hours of the morn.

By the old wooden stove where our hats were hung,Our words were told and our songs were sung;Where we longed for nothin' and were satisfiedTalkin' and a jokin' about the world outside.

With haunted hearts through the heat and cold,We never thought we could get very old;We thought we could sit forever in funThough our chances really were a million to one.

As easy as it was to tell black from white,It wasn't all that easy to tell wrong from right;Our choices were few and the thought never hitThat the road we traveled would ever shatter and split.

How many a year has passed and gone,And many a gamble has been lost and won;And many a road taken by many a first friend,And each one of them I've never seen again.

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,That we could sit simply in that room once again;Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat,I'd give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.

This album was released in 1967. This song says so much about the feeling of the times.

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My Friend, J. C. Moore

He was a real friend—The kind who accepted you like you were,Who loved you in spite of your faults.He would speak frankly to you when he thought you were wrong,But you know he told you what he thought because he loved you too much to deceive you.He loved the excitement of a challenge,The joy of pioneering.He was not afraid of life.He kept on learning and growing and making new friends.He loved persons more than things,Although much of his career was spent in handling money and building buildings.He never lost her perspective nor failed to see the forest as well as the trees.There was a jaunty spirit about him which led him to ski and to wear a tam and ride a bicycle.He was willing to help others achieve their goals, and often sat back and let them take the credit for work he did.He believed in that motto, “It is amazing how much you can accomplish if you don’t care who receives the credit.”He turned some people off with his frankness,But he communicated with many more who found his straightforwardness refreshing.He was a self-starter, an innovator who created novel approaches to solving old problems.He would have made a reputation as an international banker or a professional in the State Department,But he chose the mission field and Christian education,And his contribution to thousands will live on and on.He chose the better part,And I am thankful to have been privileged to call him friend.

—M. Norvel Young

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Naomi to Sam Summer, 1972

this is dedicated togood old Samwho hasthrough times of emotional ups and downsromantic highs and suicidal lowsbeen there.consistent—if rather independently morose—and who most certainly hasbrightened many an otherwise-dark afternoonby sittingwith slightly furrowed brownin the driver’s seat of various and sundry(though mostly just old)(or at least volkswagen)cars.

i won’t write down specifics(though heaven knows i am plagued with sucha memory and an given quite happily toover-sentimentality and carved or decoupagedboxes full of bits of rocks and pocketwatches that never plan to work again.)we will be concerned mostly herewiththe colors of people and dayssix o’clocks in the morningsand children’s faces.

(the rousing worship services, family get-togethers,first-time-for-everything’s, prayers, music,accidents and feelings i believe will justhave to wait)

if you can’t remember exactly where i fit inwith licorice and hummingbirdsplease don’t worry about itit was only after reading a suicide note fromRodgers and Hammersteinthat i looked upin despairand noticedin wonderthe color of your eyes.

So hard to break down barriersVerses hide better than proseLong days instead of talksBarbed granite in fear of affection.But it’s there.If it’s taken the long way aroundmy goodness what a fine rideand who’s to argueIt wasn’t so boringCertainly quite fine.bird feeders and Topanga canyon(oh, no, Mr. Jackson! Are we going toTopanga Canyon again?)Are we going to run out of gas again,Mr. Jackson?Oh, no, we’re going to run out of gas again, kids.Get your walking shoes on.)deserve a thank you now and then.

Thank you, she said blushingly.

It takes so long to know the feeling of a person.Thank you for those times.

— N.F. Harper

Below are Sara and Sam as they leave from the Beach House on their honeymoon in 1979. They dated on and off for eleven years, having met when she was 15 and he was 18. Sara saw the "potential" (a favorite family word) in Sam, who has raised more than $50 million for World Vision in his career with them. Sam was honored as the 2006 Wenatchee High School Graduate of the Year.

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untitled (Naomi’s dream) Summer, 1972

Hold on.

A farm! A farm!We’ll have a farm!Out near the forestlots of landa cow for milkplants in rows of fertilizerand sheepand a farm! a farm!

I’ll spin thread and embroiderand crochet and sewand paint and cook and make thebedsquilts and heavy wool blanketswith your boots under the bigwooden bedsteadnext to mine.

We’ll have Danny’s potterywith plants Nancy sentand candles we made one nightin the kitchen, before the winter camehuge, dark candlesbrowns and greensmade in large commercial ham cansDavid got for us from his job back in L.A.and a fine stereo, in a rusticdark stained book casemade partly of tree stumps.

We’ll have a huge home-made rag rug inthe middle of the front room floorand that floor will glow on Saturday morningsdark and shiny from a waxingtwo chairs and a couch made by Mattwith cushions sewn by Sally and Iand huge pillows to lie on at nightin front of the firewith Danny playing the guitar and singingor all singing, or praying andSally knitting in the cornerme crocheting a doilyand Gwen, mending Danny’s pants

Upstairs we would have four rooms.One for Danny and Gwen –probably the most artistichanging candles,paintings, ink drawings done by Danny(one Gwenniepooh etching)Deep rich curtains, and bedspreadone easela wooden chair with lots of pillowsa full length mirrorand one round stained glass window.

Matt and Sally’s room would besimple, messy twice a day(before and after Sally’s two cleanings)and blue.Feminine, simple decoupages, knit pillowsand an old dresser with a mirrora simple bedspread, dark flowered curtainsa pipe on the cedar chesta knitting satchel on the floorand a pair of Matt’s huge bootsnear the bed

Next doora huge, wooden bed with a home-madefluffy quilt and patchwork pillowcasesdrawings on the walldark curtainsone small table, with a doilyand two boxes on it,one dark, containing memories andpennies, and the other, a music box.A guitar in the corner.

A bath next tothe Study, a huge, airy room withone large desk – always crowdedwith papers and memoscoffee cups and cigarette buttsrows of bookshelves from the ceiling downwith sections forDanny, Matt, Danny,music, art,movies, plays, Religion, crafts –one index-file-card catalogue by Naomia big furry rug and a fireplacecleaned once a week,messy third day after.

The kitchen would be huge and warmespecially close to ChristmasSally’s pregnant figure, moving betweenthe shelves and the stove, bumping andlaughing with Gwen and Naomirolled-up sleeves and a lock of hairfalling downfilled up by prayer and pin moneyfrom the job Sal has till when sheneeds to quit.

A loom in the front room, always filledpaintings on the wallan old, huge upright piano with a scarfover its topan ancient Singer sewing machineand lots of flowers from the garden

Special schedulesprayer – eating – Bible study –reading – singingMail to go out, laundrytrips to town once a weekin an old timey Volkswagon

Working with each othertrying to builddeeper faithdeveloped talentbeingopen, to the Lordandeach other.

Preheat oven to 450º.Add to 1 cup of mix:1 egg1 cup buttermilkStir quickly, don’t beat.Melt bacon grease in seasoned cast iron skillet in oven.Pour into mixture, stir just a couple of stirs.Bake on top shelf at 450º for 20 minutes.